Draco Malfoy and Lord Voldemort's Request
A/N: This is basically the Half Blood Prince from Draco's point of view. However, I made up a lot of events.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is rightfully J.K. Rowling's.
Rain pounded the windows outside the Malfoy mansion. Sporadic strikes of lightning danced across the sky, occasionally lighting up the dark room, along with a dying fire in the fireplace across from the deep red armchair in which Draco was sitting, trying to ignore the hysterical sobs of his mother in the room above. She had been like this ever since his father, Lucius, had been sent to Azkaban.
It disgusted Draco to see her like this, her eyes constantly swollen, her nose running, her nightgown filthy and wet. She was putting on a very unconvincing act in Draco's opinion. He could tell that his mother didn't love his father, but had only married him for money, and because of the fact that his father, like her, had been a pure-blood.
He remembered his father being sent to Azkaban vividly. His name, once respected among all wizard kind, had been disgraced; people who usually paid no attention to him before now gave him looks of deepest loathing. The teachers (McGonagall in particular) watched him beadily as if he was going to cast the dark mark in the classroom at any second.
Then his thoughts shifted to Harry Potter. Draco closed his eyes and scowled. Potter was the reason his father was locked up in Azkaban. Potter was the reason why the name "Malfoy" was no longer respected. Potter was the reason why his mother was weeping upstairs, her screams of mirth growing in a crescendo of sound. And Potter was the reason why every bad thing happened to him…
He then began to think of possible revenges to pay back for his father's imprisonment: casting the Imperious Curse to make him dive into a cauldron full of that oaf Hagrid's Blast-Endy whatever-they-were and watch the hideous creatures rip him limb from limb, performing the Cruciatus Curse until he ended up like Longbottom's parents…
But no. None of those would possibly satisfy Draco more than if Potter was dead. As his father had once told him, nothing is worse than death.
His mind pictured Potter, spread eagle on the floor, eyes wide open. He quivered with delight at the thought that he, Draco, had shown him no mercy. That he was the one who had pointed the wand at his heart, sending Potter to reunite with his useless parents-
A loud CRACK filled the room, shattering the wall of his thoughts. Draco jumped as though he had received an electric shock and wildly looked around the room. He pulled his wand out of the pocket of his robes. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he was sure he had heard someone Apparate. Maybe it was one of the House-Elves, Draco reasoned with himself. He had decided to settle on that theory when, without warning, a metallic-like hand clamped over his mouth, stifling his scream. Then, the room before him vanished.
A.N.: Reviews anyone?